THE BIRDS OF A NORTHERN LOCH 75 



meadows and woods of old England. 

 One missed the songs of numerous birds, 

 but what I missed more than anything 

 was the trees. Some years ago I spent 

 nearly five weeks on one of these bleak 

 islands ; when I travelled south again, 

 and stood under the shade of the green 

 trees, they seemed the most beautiful 

 things I had ever looked upon. Some 

 of the natives of these islands live their 

 whole lives without even knowing what 

 a tree is like, for the tallest thing that 

 grows is the rough heather. Over some 

 of the grassy islands numerous Gulls 

 were soaring, and their white wings 

 seemed a beautiful contrast to the blue 

 above and below. Even the hills had 

 caught up the prevailing blue, and their 

 rugged rocks and grey slopes were half 

 hidden in the haze. Over all there is 

 that great silence, broken occasionally by 

 the wild cries of the birds. Those birds 

 which frequent such secluded spots seem 



